n the Netflix series The Crown, there’s a scene where two of the most powerful women of their time sit across from each other, engaged in a conversation that could shape the course of history. This wasn’t a rare, once-in-a-lifetime moment — it was business as usual. Queen Elizabeth II met with her prime ministers almost every week, a routine exchange that carried the weight of a nation’s future. The second woman I’m talking about is Margaret Thatcher, also known as, the Iron Lady.

From the many interactions of Thatcher with the Queen, there was one that moved me more than the others. Not that it came as a surprise to me — given the experience and exposure of both these women, they must have had a mountain of wisdom between them, and when the moment came for words to weigh in, you can only imagine the tact with which they would do so.

Alright, I’ll stop with the suspense — this buildup is starting to feel longer than the time Prince Charles had to wait to become the King. In one of her audiences with the Queen, Thatcher seeks her blessing to dissolve the parliament. The Queen’s response is a simple yet profound suggestion: maybe she should do nothing.

Nothing was a concept the Queen had mastered over a lifetime. After all, the British monarchy is largely ceremonial — its power lies not in action, but in patience, restraint and quiet influence. Sometimes, the wisest course is to not act, to let things unfold rather than forcing a change.

For the ever-determined Thatcher, this advice must have felt like a slap in the face. A leader who thrived on decisiveness, on doing rather than waiting, being told that doing nothing could be the best course of action? That’s the kind of wisdom that stings.

I believe that the art of doing nothing is a skill everyone needs to master in life. Before you get any ideas, let me clarify — doing nothing doesn’t mean giving someone the silent treatment, stonewalling or willfully ignoring emotions out of stubbornness or ego.

Far too often, people weaponise inaction — subtly punishing others under the guise of “keeping the peace.” It’s a tricky thing, this so-called nothingness: done with intention, it can embody wisdom; done with malice, it’s just another form of control.

The kind of nothing I want us to master is the kind that comes in moments of emotional turbulence — when we’re triggered, when our fight-or-flight response kicks in, when our instincts scream at us to react. These are the moments when our primal, animalistic side takes charge, convincing us that we’re protecting ourselves. But more often than not, what we’re really protecting is our ego — the great destroyer of the soul.

Ego doesn’t recognise togetherness. It doesn’t care for unity. The moment it takes centre stage, it turns situations that should be about us into me-versus-you. That, more than anything, is where the real damage begins.

I may have taken the practice of doing nothing a little too far at times. There have been moments where words or situations didn’t fully hit me until a day later, long after the moment had passed. And let’s be real — that’s not always ideal either. There are times when you do need to speak up right then and there, for instance moments of disrespect or boundary-crossing. Some things need to be addressed promptly, not mulled over in silence.

That said, this practice has helped me tremendously in reducing my reactive tendencies. Because, let’s be honest, most of the times I’ve reacted impulsively it’s led to a trail of “I didn’t mean that” and “I’m sorry, that came out wrong.” And while apologies are important, it’s even better when the need does not arise in the first place. Controlling my immediate reactions has saved me from countless regrets and unnecessary conflicts.

So, the next time you feel that reactive fire rising inside you, try stepping outside your ego. Let the emotions settle before you decide whether a response is truly necessary or just an impulse begging for attention.

When the Queen advises Thatcher to do nothing, Thatcher resists, saying that in doing nothing, she would lose power, while the Queen has power in doing nothing. To this, the Queen simply replies, “At least you’ll have your dignity.”

And that’s the key — sometimes, holding back isn’t about winning or losing. It’s about preserving yourself: your dignity, your peace, your self-respect. And that, more often than not, is worth far more than a temporary victory an emotional reaction might bring.

Shaafay Zia is an ex-serviceman and a freelancer. He can be reached at shaafayzia@gmail.com